God of Fear
by Child-Chan
Summary: Each year, the small village Jack calls home must sacrifice a child to the god that lives on the outside of the village. This year, Jack takes the place of a young girl and gives himself up for the safety of the village. But lucky for Jack, there's never been a sacrifice like him and the god may have received something much more precious. BlackIce. Pitch/Jack. Boyxboy.
1. Chapter 1

**So this is my first fic.**

**Since I'm clearly new to this, please don't be too harsh. But helpful criticism would be greatly appreciated.**

**I think this might be a little short, so I'll try to do the other chapters a little longer. But this seems fine for my first try?**

**So, um, I don't own Rise of the Guardians, obviously.**

**And enjoy!**

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Jack stood bare foot in the snow before the entrance of a cave. He stared into the seemingly eternal darkness nervously. He knew that once he entered, he would never come back out. But he couldn't run away. Even if he did, the village would reject him and drive him out. The only option he had was to continue forward.

So Jack approached the cave slowly. Peering inside, he called out. "Hello?"

When no reply came, he stepped inside. As soon as he did, the ground seemed to open and he fell through darkness. He stretched his arms out to try to catch onto something to stop the fall but there was nothing around him.

With a panicked streak, he felt the ground once more beneath his feet. There was no painful impact. In fact, it was more like a parent setting a child down gently.

It only took a moment for Jack to calm down and let his eyes explore. He was certainly not in the same cave as before. Surrounding him was a dark labyrinth with rock mazes and stairs twisting in every direction. The only light source in the entire space came from golden crystals embedded into the rocks all around.

"Surely your pathetic village had someone younger to send," a smooth voice hissed. It was only then that Jack turned to see the figure standing behind him. The tall man stood gracefully with his hands behind his back. His grey skin reminded Jack of ash and his golden eyes of fire. If his looks weren't intimating enough, his aura was nothing but emptiness and darkness. "How old are you, boy?"

"My name's Jack," he snapped without thinking. Thankfully the man looked more amused than angry. "I'm seventeen."

"You're hardly a child," the man said. He looked over Jack with attentive eyes. "Besides, wasn't the sacrifice for this year a female?"

"Originally," Jack told him. His voice lacked the confidence from before. "But I volunteered to take her place."

The man looked baffled for a moment before regaining composure. "Did someone force you to take her place or did you really volunteer?"

Jack didn't answer so the dark man assumed it was forced. He couldn't be shocked. From the way Jack looked, he could only imagine what the village thought of him. Pale skin and snow white hair? The boy must've been seen as an omen.

"Do you understand what 'sacrifice' means?" he asked Jack.

"I assume it means you'll kill me?" Jack said nonchalantly.

"Eventually," he said with a smile, showing off sharp teeth. "But not just yet."

Jack simply stretched, feeling unthreatened. "Didn't your mother tell you not to play with your food, Pitch?"

"I don't have a moth… What did you call me?"

Jack coughed and glanced at the man's face. Again there was no anger. But this time he _did_ seem annoyed. "It's what the kids in the village call you. Sorry. I haven't outgrown it yet."

"None of the other ever called me by that name," he said. Of course, they were normally busy pleading for their lives. "Why am I called that?"

Jack shrugged. "You know 'pitch black'? It means darker than darkness or something. And you being the god of fear and all—"

"So your people see me as a god now?" he huffed. "Since when? I've always been the monster in the shadows to them."

"You still are," Jack said honestly. "But they fear you enough to try and please you."

"Humans!" Pitch growled in disgust. "You are all so weak willed. I mean, I'd enough being worshiped but this is…"

Pitch trailed off as he looked at Jack. The boy stood in the same spot. He hadn't tried to run or even step back in all the time they'd been speaking. Jack stood as Pitch's equal the entire time. There hadn't been a bit of fear in him since the shadows had brought him into Pitch's lair.

"What?" Jack asked when he noticed Pitch staring.

"You," Pitch said pointing a finger at Jack. "Do you not fear me?"

Jack tilted his head as if he were confused by the question. "No?"

"But you're going to die!" Pitch shouted. "Do you not want to live?"

"Of course I want to live!" he responded. "But I'm not dead. So why torment myself waiting for it to come?"

Pitch stared at him in shock. Jack smiled and took delight in the fact he had stumped a god. The grin on his face was purely mischievous. He decided to take this moment to move closer. Pitch only noticed when the white haired boy was in his face. He flinched back on instinct and cursed himself at being startled.

Luckily, Jack didn't press on. He stepped back with a look of concern now drawn across his face. "You okay?"

Pitch straightened himself. "As if a brat with no awareness for personal space can unease me."

"Personal space?" Jack questioned. "What's that?"

"Ha, ha. Very…." Pitch stopped speaking when he realized the genuine confusion in Jack's eyes. "You're joking, right?"

"I'm sorry?" Jack offered.

Pitch sighed, feeling guilty for some unknown reason. "What on earth kind of home did you live in?"

Jack didn't answer once again. Instead he went to sit down on a nearby rock and waited for Pitch to move on. But the god wasn't letting it go. He approached Jack slowly as though he were afraid to get close. When he was finally in front of him, he put a hand on Jack's shoulder hesitantly.

"It looks like I have much to teach you," he said softly.

"Playing with your food is really a bad—"

"Hush, boy," Pitch warned. "I can do as I please."

"Jack," the teen reminded him. He held out his hand to Pitch. When the grey god simply stared at it, Jack chuckled. "It's a handshake. It's how we introduce ourselves."

Pitch took the outstretched hand as if it were going to hurt him. "Kozmotis."

Jack grinned a wide smile. "Nice to meet you, Kozmotis."

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**So? How was it?**

**Good? Bad?**

**What do I need to improve on?**

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Oh, thank you all so much for the encouraging words!**

**I'm glad you all liked it. And because I noticed a few people asking, yes, this will be a series! I think I need to stick to one thing until I build up the experience to move on a bit. I know I've already published another story, but I meant, well... You know what I meant!**

**This wasn't the original chapter I had planned for. I wrote two different versions, this one being during school because I was bored, and for some reason I liked this one a bit more.**

**Anyway, please enjoy once more and of course I don't own Rise of the Guardians!**

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Pitch was completely silent as he led him through the maze that he calls home. He didn't have to turn around to know the curious newcomer was looking around in wonder. It annoyed him because he had created his lair with the intention to make people uneasy and fear getting lost to ward the away but here Jack was treating it like a walk through town. Humans should quake at the very mention of it!

The most annoying thing about Jack wasn't his lack of fear. It was that his lack of fear completely baffled Pitch. He wanted to full on attack the boy, using ever fear he knew of to try and get even a gasp out of him. He wasn't the type to go after his prey quickly though. He left them to their own imaginations, to create fears out of nothing for him to feed on. He let his prey destroy themselves. But he wasn't sure if he would be able to do that with Jack.

They soon approached a wall that seemed to just be another part of the lair and Pitch stopped. Jack leaned around him to see why and was amazed as the shadows parted to reveal a doorway. He instantly moved around Pitch to stick his hand in it to see if it was real or not.

"Cool!" Jack yelled. He turned to Pitch with that cheeky smile of his. "So you can control shadows?"

Pitch ignored the question. "This will be your room."

Jack turned back around so he could look more closely at it. It was completely empty other than a bed. "More like a prision cell."

"Of course," Pitch laughed. "Did you forget why you were here?"

Jack shook his head. "No, it's fine! Better than I got at home, in fact."

Perhaps a normal person would've asked how that could have been. Perhaps a normal person would've felt pity for the boy. But it just reminded Pitch of his own lonely upbringing so he didn't comment.

"Where do you sleep?" Jack asked.

Pitch gave him a look. "I don't sleep."

"Then what do you do?"

Rather than give him a sarcastic answer, Pitch thought about it. "Mostly just tend to my nightmares and make sure they're spreading well without interference."

Jack rolled his eyes. "But when you're not doing that?"

Pitch could feel part of himself get embarrassed and scowled. "I read."

Silence passed over them before Jack busted out laughing. Pitch stared at him in shock for a moment before realizing he was laughing at _him_. In anger, the shadows around them got darker and began to twist and turn, closing in around Jack. Jack, of course, doesn't notice and continued laughing.

"What is so funny?" Pitch hissed.

Jack attempted to stop himself and finally got a hand over it after a minute. "Nothing, that was just… I didn't expect the terrifying God of Fear to say something like that. Man, don't let the people in the village know. It's not so intimidating."

Pitch huffed in annoyance. "I have you know, knowledge is _very _intimidating."

"Sure, Pitch."

Knowing he would not win this argument, and probably any future ones, Pitch began to fill the doorway with shadows once more.

"Wait!" Jack demanded. For some reason, Pitch listened and he would regret that eternally later. "You never answered my question. Where will you be?"

"What does it matter where I am?" Pitch asked. "I'll come get you if I have need of you."

"Please," Jack said in a voice so low it surprised Pitch. He didn't know the boy was capable of a whisper. "Please, just… let me know?"

Pitch looked at Jack for a moment. If he had thought about it harder at that time, he would've realized Jack feared being alone and would've not answered. But just looking at Jack and seeing the almost shy look on his face shocked him enough to get him to answer.

Pitch turned around and pointed to some stairs a few feet from the room. "Go down those, take a left at the bottom, continue to a split in the tunnel, and continue left. That is where I normally am if I'm not above."

Jack smiled at him and stepped back from the doorway. "Thank you."

Pitch flushed and quickly closed off the room with shadows. He stared at what was now once more just a rock wall.

"You're welcome."

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**Thank you for reading!**

**And as in the first one, please feel free to give me constructive criticism! **


	3. Chapter 3

**This is where stuff starts getting awkward.**

**Ah, I love it.**

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Jack had no way to tell how much time had passed, but he guessed it had been about four days. During that time, he hadn't heard from Pitch even once. He was forced to sit in a completely dark room and watch Pitch's shadows attempt to unease him. The closest they ever got was when one night, they wrapped around his ankle. Jack had been asleep at the time so it caught him off guard.

It's not like Jack was _trying_ not to be scared. It was just after all the stuff that had happened to him, it was really hard to scare him. He was constantly in a fight or flight mode but he was so used to it that it seemed he was relaxed. And since he didn't think the shadows could actually harm him, he mostly just tried to make shapes out of them as a child would with clouds.

Jack's biggest problem being locked away was boredom. He had nothing to do other than roll around the bed or stare at the wall. On the second day, he decided to do simple exercising to help him pass the time. It worked until his lungs were burning and there wasn't enough energy to continue. After that, there was absolutely nothing for him to do.

Jack wasn't much of a complainer. Normally whenever something happened, he figured out how to deal with it and move on. This, however, was difficult to move on from.

"Pitch, c'mon," Jack said to the nearest shadow, hoping the god could hear him. "Obviously, you know by now the shadows won't work. Open the door and try something else."

Of course there was no response.

"Please, Pitch," Jack begged. He wasn't above begging. He'd done a lot of it in his life. No reason that should change now. "Fine, I'll just bite my tongue off."

That did the trick. The shadow blocking the door opened and revealed a glaring Pitch. In his hand was a small cloth bag that Jack knew was his dinner. Normally it simply appeared through the shadows.

"You're no use to me dead," Pitch hissed. He threw the bag at Jack then began to pace through the room. "You don't realize your situation. You are a sacrifice, not a guest. You do not have the luxury to make requests. And honestly, since I can't scare you, I may just kill you soon."

Jack was listening, but he was more interested in the bacon he'd found in his bag. One of the upsides to being a Pitch's captive was that, for some reason, he was brought good food. He ate better in here than he ever had when he was free. It made him wonder if this was Pitch's taste or he didn't know the difference.

"Hey, Pitch, what do you eat?" Jack asked.

"_Fear_," Pitch said dramatically, hoping to scare Jack. Of course it didn't work. "That's why you're useless."

Jack stared down. "Oh. I see the problem."

"It's just so hard for me to access your fears," he complained. "It's like you're somehow blocking me."

"I'm not meaning to," Jack confessed. "But since I'm so tasteless, why not just let me go?"

Pitch turned on Jack with the coldest eyes he'd ever seen. It startled him, which earned a grin from Pitch. "No, Jack, I _will _make you fear me."

"But what if I don't?" Jack challenged.

"Then I'll kill you."

Jack stared at Pitch's face. He knew it was true. He knew that's the only reason he was there. He was there to die by Pitch's hands. He was ready to die.

And yet, he wanted to know more about Pitch. He didn't know anything other than his name and the fact that he'd been feeding on his villages fear for centuries. He had so many questions. That'd always been a part of his personality. His curiosity had gotten him in so _so _much trouble.

"How can I stop?" Jack asked.

"Stop what?" Pitch asked shortly.

"Blocking you," Jack clarifies. "I don't know how I'm doing it, so you'll have to help me stop."

Pitch looked thoughtful as he resumed his pacing. Jack wanted to offer suggestions, but he doubt any of them would be helpful. Besides, Pitch would probably actually kill him if he spoke right now.

"I don't know," Pitch admits after a minute. "I've even tried getting into your dreams. It's like you're always on your guard."

Jack closed his eyes. Of course he was. Not like he was in the most comfortable place, just looking at the sunset. But he knew it ran deeper. He was just so scared of everything. How on Earth could he be so afraid but apparently show no fear at all?

"I guess you'll just have to _trust _me." Pitch said the word like it was poison.

Jack gave him a look. "Why would I do that? I mean, I can just be like 'hey, I trust you' but actually trust is something unconscious. And I doubt you'd be able to earn it, fear god."

"I don't like the idea either," Pitch said. "It's a disgusting human trait. But your mental walls are too strong for me to get through."

"If I know this is your plan, won't I always be on my guard?" Jack pondered. "How will we get around that?"

Pitch groaned and threw his arms up in frustrations. "I know I'm cursed, but I've never truly felt it until now."

"You're cursed?" Jack asked.

Pitch glared at him. "_Not _the point."

"Is this going to be too hard for you?" Jack asked with a grin. "Because, you know, Pitch, I only trust my friends."

Pitch gave him a startled look and disappeared through the shadows as if running away. Sadly, he had the since to close the door before he left. Jack should really learn to shut his mouth once in a while. He might've talked him into letting him out.

"It won't be that bad," Jack said because now he knew Pitch could hear him. "I'm a _great_ friend."


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello, everyone!**

**It's been a while. Sorry about that. I just haven't really had the motivation to write. I've been doing plenty of reading, though! There are some really amazing fics out there and when I look at mine, I'm just like "what is this hot mess?"**

**But that means I can be excited to see what this becomes! **

**As always, thanks for reading and enjoy!**

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It had been a full day since Jack had seen Pitch. He was a little disappointed that nothing had seemed to change between them. Maybe he shouldn't have teased Pitch, but they were both alone. Jack may have misunderstood that they could have created a bond due to that similar loneliness. But it looked like it didn't affect Pitch as much as it did Jack.

Jack was once again back to looking for anything to entertain himself. He had found a piece of sharp rock broken off from the wall and had begun to carve into the stone. He had carved dolls and bowls for a little money normally, so it gave him an almost calming effect.

He had no real vision for his carving; he had just started scraping at the wall. It would turn into what it wanted eventually. For now, he would just help it along the way by cutting randomly.

Turns out cutting in the dark wasn't the best idea he'd ever had. He ended up slicing the palm of his hand not even an hour into it. It didn't really hurt much but he couldn't see how much it was bleeding so he didn't know how serious it was. Trying not to panic, he takes off his top and wraps it around his hand.

"Pitch, I cut my hand," Jack announced. "I don't know how bad it is because I can't see. Will you come check it?"

Pitch didn't appear and he didn't answer. Jack was pretty sure he could be heard no matter where Pitch was at, even if he decided to take a stroll through the village. After all, it wouldn't do to have a sacrifice kill themselves before Pitch got their full use. This realization made Jack a tad frustrated as that meant he was being ignored.

"I might die, Pitch," Jack said.

Even with such a realization, still Pitch did not come. In his moment of stubbornness, Jack worried for a minute if Pitch might actually be hurt or in trouble. He was the God of Fear. Surely he had enemies. Hell, Jack's entire village was his enemy. But Jack would never think that one of them would have the guts to come and harm Pitch. Even if they hated him, they feared him too much to take action against him.

Jack raced to the wall where he thought the door was and started beating on it. He wasn't sure if that would even do anything, but if at least annoyed Pitch enough to get a response… Or, maybe in the worst case, alert someone from the village of his presence.

"Pitch!" He yelled, "Pitch, are you out there? Pitch, answer me!"

"What are you yelling for?" Pitch hissed from directly behind him. "You know perfectly well that I can hear you."

Jack turned to him, their faces inches apart, glaring. "Then why didn't you answer me?"

Pitch glared right back. "Frankly, because you're _annoying_."

"I thought you were hurt!" Jack yelled.

Pitch gives a look that is mostly confusion with hints of condescending. "Who would want to hurt me?"

Jack doesn't answer. He fells wetness on his face and wipes it away. All this stress and loneliness was getting to him. Pitch really was forcing him to destroy himself, just not in the way he wanted.

Pitch just looked more confused. "What is that? How can you do that and not be afraid?"

Jack stared at him. "What?"

"Your eyes," he elaborated, "they're leaking water. But you aren't afraid."

"You don't have to be afraid to cry," Jack told him. He was stilled confused by what had gotten into Pitch's head, but he shouldn't have been. Pitch had only ever been around people who feared him, to Jack's knowledge. "You can cry when you're happy, or sad… Sometimes when you're angry."

Pitch didn't acknowledge the new information. He just looked down to Jack's hand and takes it. Jack wasn't sure if Pitch knows what he's doing, as he was taking off the shirt with such gentleness one might think Jack was made of glass.

Pitch held the bloody hand up for Jack to see. As before, it was too dark and Jack could barely make out the outline of his hand with the liquid on it. "And this?"

Back into confusion Jack went. "What?"

"This is caused when you are injured," Pitch stated. "Did you injure yourself out of anger?"

"No," Jack told him although he wasn't going to explain how it happened.

Pitch just nodded and went back to examining the hand. "I have a similar attribute. For humans, how much blood is fatal? What would be considered a simple scrape?"

"Um…." Jack tried to think of how to explain it. "A little cut normally only lets blood rise to the surface and then quits. A serious wound would bleed enough to drip onto the ground and wouldn't stop."

"What about somewhere in between?" Pitch asked.

"It needs to be treated, even then," Jack told him. "If it gets infected, I'll die."

Pitch groans and drops Jack's hand. Jack opens his mouth to question him, but Pitch opens the door and grabs the wrist on Jack's non injured hand. He is then pulled out of the room for the first time in almost a week and lead towards the area Pitch had told Jack that he stayed.

They entered a part of the liar that was completely unlike the rest of Pitch's home. The walls were more smoothed out here and there was furniture made of stone. There was a single chair and what looked more like a bench. Along the walls were stone bookshelves, filled with all kinds of books. Some looked to come from other parts of the world while others looked like something his friends would own.

"I guess you do like to read," Jack muses.

He was only given a minute to look before he was pulled into a room beyond that one. Here, shelves were built into the walls had odd collections upon them. There were shelves full of simple things like hammers and glass and more beautiful things like pottery and porcelain. On the far shelf was a group of various plants, herbs, and berries.

Pitch practically shoved Jack towards it. "I don't know how to treat a human wound so you'll have to make due yourself. Take what you need."

"What have you got all these for?" Jack asked.

Behind him, Pitch was crossing his arms in a way to look uncaring and smug. "I collect all types of objects you humans have created."

"But why plants?"

Now Pitch was less smug. "I collected food for the sacrifices, but they told me things such as this were better used for the ill. I kept it in case one of them ever needed it."

Jack was grinning now. "You act all tough but you actually care, huh?"

"Did you find what you need?" Pitch asked bitterly.

Jack had actually seen exactly what he needed as soon as he saw the shelf. The herb he needed was a brighter green than the rest and Jack had gotten used to spotting it because of his constant wounds and the good price he could sell it for. Many families had just women, with the men going to hunt many hours or working in the larger cities for money, and Jack often sold them the herb for a cheaper price than what it was worth due to their state. Besides, he was really the only man who never left town. Many of his friends were already working with their fathers and had asked him to watch over their families.

"I've got it right here," Jack said, lifting it and showing it to Pitch.

Pitch smiled. "Good."

Without him realizing it, the ground disappeared beneath Jack's feet and a wave of dizziness overtook him. He felt something almost pulling him, similar to when he first arrived but rather than down, it was pulling him in a different direction. When he got ahold of himself, he had realized Pitch had dumped him through the shadows back to his room.

With a grin, Jack began dressing his wound.


End file.
